


Wedding Day

by floosilver8



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Episode: s03e02 The Sign of Three, F/M, Fate, Groundhog Day, Repeating the same day, Rom-Com AU, Sherlolly - Freeform, Wedding, mollock, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1394278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floosilver8/pseuds/floosilver8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly relives John and Mary's wedding until she gets it right - à la the movie <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0107048/?ref_=nv_sr_1"><em>Groundhog Day</em> (1993)</a>.</p><p>Prompted by this post from <a href="http://fuckyeahsherlolly.tumblr.com/post/81212678817/before-i-go-write-heres-a-prompt-for-anyone">FuckYeahSherlolly</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saturday 18th May

**Author's Note:**

> [ETA: 8 April 2014] Spoilery:  
> Someone in the comments noted that Phil takes Rita home twice before the spell is broken. I had an answer for why I didn't make it that way the first time...and then I started thinking and added another day. Because Sherlolly!
> 
> In my zeal to post this new chapter I accidentally deleted all the comments that had been placed on the old last chapter. I am a stupid human being but I love you all for leaving them! I am so sorry!
> 
> Hope that doesn't completely ruin it.

Molly’s radio alarm goes off at exactly 9am playing Bruno Mars’ _When I Was Your Man_.

_“It all just sounds like, oooh… Too young, too dumb to realise that I should’ve bought you flowers and held your hand. Should’ve gave you all my hours when I had the chance...”_

She can’t help but smile to herself knowing what awaits her today, John and Mary’s wedding. She loves weddings, especially those that will feature her good friends. She gets up and lays out the blue dress that she will wear, along with her shoes and matching fascinator.

Before taking a shower she makes herself coffee and toast. Walking back into her bedroom with the coffee, Toby winds around her feet tripping her up. It all happens in slow motion. The mug slips from her hands, she plunges face front onto her bed. She’s not really hurt but the coffee has gone absolutely everywhere. Assessing the damage she almost feels like crying. The dress was brand new and now it’s totally ruined.

Pulling herself together she sighs and stands. “Stupid cat!” She tries to mop up what she can and when she’s satisfied she resumes getting ready. Of course, it’s now much later than she wanted to start her routine and having to rush stresses her out. Tom’s also late in meeting her at her flat. She has to balance her phone on the edge of the sink simultaneously applying her make-up and doing her hair while shouting at him to hurry up.

The yellow dress she picks out will have to do. It’s perfectly fine but the only matching hair accessory she has is a giant bow – and she absolutely cannot go to the wedding without a hat or fascinator.

Tom arrives a few seconds after she’s zipped herself up, and she hops into his car while trying to put her shoes on. It’s a tense 45 minute drive to the venue outside of London. Molly’s sure they’re going to miss the ceremony, or arrive just as Mary’s walking down the aisle and everyone will stare.

“Relax, Molly. We’ll get there. It’ll be fine.” Tom tries to be reassuring but something in his tone indicates he’s annoyed by her worrying. Molly shoots him a look. His attitude is not what she needs right now.

They do arrive at the church just in the nick of time. Molly notices Sherlock and John waiting at the altar, backs to the congregation. She also notices the back of Mrs. Hudson and sees space on the bench next to her. They file into the pew and exchange quiet pleasantries just as the music begins, signalling the wedding party’s entrance.

The ceremony is lovely. Sherlock looks rather stiff and her nervousness for his speech comes flooding through her again. Molly blushes when she catches herself staring. Everyone files out afterward for photos in front of the church. Molly and Tom stay slightly in the distance, chatting with Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade.

“Just think,” Tom says, “This will be us in a few months.”

“Huh?” Molly can’t keep her eyes off Sherlock and the Maid of Honour.

“I said this will be us soon,” he grasps her shoulders and squeezes, bringing her slightly back to reality.

“Oh. Yeah. Us,” she forces herself to smile at him. Ever since Sherlock’s return from the dead a few months ago she had been less and less excited by the thought of her impending nuptials. Tom had been rather put out when John and Mary had set a date before he and Molly had.

Tom audibly sighs now, “You know we will have to set a date eventually, right? This is where an engagement is headed. You know that, right?”

Molly whips her head around to look at him with slight anger, “Can we not do this right now? Not today, alright? We’re here for John and Mary.” Tom rolls his eyes but nods.

The reception takes place just down the road in a charming little inn. She knows she’ll regret being crabby later so Molly forces herself to smile for pictures with Tom – going so far as to kiss him on the cheek. She’s much happier when they take their seats for the meal and she can talk to Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson more.

“Pray silence for the Best Man.”

 _Oh fuck,_ she thinks. _Here we go._

Sherlock stands and starts his speech with a stutter. Molly can’t take her eyes off of him and silently prays for him to find the strength to get through it.

“Telegrams,” John coughs. That seems to shake the cobwebs and Sherlock picks up the pace, flipping through the note cards quicker than he should. She can’t help but smile.

His speech ends up being paced alright. “It later transpired that I had said none of this out loud.” The room rumbles with laughter. The mood changes when he rambles about religion, weddings, beauty and his friendship with John. There’s not a dry eye in the place.

 _Who knew Sherlock Holmes had such a big heart?_ Molly thinks. The case he brings up sounds fascinating. _What would cause such an injury, and who could have executed it?_ She feels bad for Greg when he’s called out like a pupil who wasn’t paying attention in class. Her stomach drops a second later when Tom raises his hand to provide a theory.

“...a meat...dagger,” Tom’s voice weakens.

 _Oh my God shut up, you daft moron._ “Sit. Down. Now.” she spits out. Of course he’s wrong.

Sherlock doesn’t look at her as he goes on and she feels slightly sick. Luckily he begins to wrap up and they stand for the toast. Just as they raise their glasses a shadow falls across Sherlock’s face. _Mind Palace._ Maybe no one else notices but her. When he drops his glass she knows something is very wrong. His voice falters as he tries to continue.

“Where were we? Ah, raising glasses and standing up.” _Get through it, you can do this._ “...And down again.”

His leap over the table a moment later startles everyone but Molly. She watches him intently trying to figure out what’s happening. His pacing and rambling don’t seem to make a lot of sense and she’s worried he’s having a manic episode.

“He’s pissed isn’t he?” Tom whispers.

Anger flashes through her and she stabs him in the hand with her fork. _Not another fucking word, I swear to God._ Sherlock not so subtly makes Greg leave. Molly can see the txt over his shoulder, “Lock this place down.” Her heart is in her throat. _Doesn’t anyone else see something is wrong? Something terrible is going to happen._

Sherlock seems to recover and rushes through the toast after the uniformed gentleman leaves the room. _Is it him? Is he the criminal? Or the victim?_ Her mind races.

Sherlock runs out of the room a moment later, followed closely by John, and then Mary. Molly almost makes a move to follow them but she realises it’s not her place. She remains with the other guests as they all mill around for a while. Sherlock returns to the hall a few minutes later and she knows everything will be fine.

She and Tom wander into the garden to enjoy the remainder of the sun. “This was a terrible venue. So cliché. And tiny.”

Molly almost wants to punch him for that remark. This is the perfect place for wedding. She had been thinking that it was too bad John and Mary had chosen it first. She wanted her wedding to be smaller than this even. She tries to push it away and just enjoy being there.

An hour later they gather inside again for the first dance. There’s some kerfuffle in the hall with the photographer but she tries not to notice.

The sight of Sherlock playing his violin stirs something in her. She’s never wanted to jump on him more in her life. But as he throws his boutonniere to the Maid of Honour the feeling shrivels and dies _. Silly me._

The proper dancing begins and Molly shakes her head to clear it. _This is how it’s going to be. Me and Tom. Because he asked. And I said yes._ They dance together and Molly smiles at his “cool” moves. She looks around to see if Sherlock’s dancing with the Maid of Honour, but he’s not. In fact he’s not anywhere to be found. _Odd._

They dance for quite awhile, taking breaks for drinks when they become too tired. _It’ll be fine. This life with Tom._ She plasters a smile on her face.

John and Mary are spending the night at the inn so there’s no big send-off to wait for. Other guests begin leaving after an hour or so. It’s only as they’re about to leave for the night as well that Molly realises no one has seen Sherlock. They say their goodbyes and Tom drives her home.

It’s 11pm when they get back. There’s actually a free parking space close to her flat so he decides to take the opportunity and stay the night. Molly smiles and says, “Great.” But she knows she doesn’t mean it. Luckily they’re both too exhausted to have sex, so they just go to sleep. Toby curls up on Molly’s chest and she falls asleep before midnight, petting him thinking, _This is how it’s going to be. I will be his wife._


	2. Saturday 18th May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2

Molly’s radio alarm goes off at exactly 9am playing Bruno Mars’ _When I Was Your Man_.

_“It all just sounds like, oooh… Too young, too dumb to realise that I should’ve bought you flowers and held your hand. Should’ve gave you all my hours when I had the chance...”_

“That’s weird,” she says to Tom, “This was what they played yesterday too.” She sits up and turns to him. He’s not there. “Tom?” she calls, listening for sounds of him in the bathroom or kitchen. When there’s only silence in return she gets up and searches for him around the flat, “Tom? Where are you?” It takes her a minute to realise he’s really not there. She grabs her phone and rings him.

_“Morning, Molly,”_ he yawns. 

“Tom, where are you? Why did you leave?”

_“What? Leave where? I’m still at home. I’ll be there to pick you up in an hour, I promise.”_

“Pick me up?”

_“Yeah...for the wedding. We’re still going, right?”_

“Wedding?” panic seeps into the back of her brain.

 _“John and Mary’s. It’s in a few hours, right? Don’t worry I won’t be late. Well, as long as we hang up now. See you in a bit,”_ he rings off.

She stares at her phone for a few seconds and registers the date. Saturday 18th May. “Saturday?” she almost shouts. She opens her wardrobe and the blue dress is there, perfectly fine. “A dream. That was just a dream. ...A really realistic dream.” She calms down and starts to get ready. She enjoys her coffee in the kitchen, avoiding all chances of the dress being ruined. She showers, does her hair and applies her make-up before returning to her bedroom to get dressed. As she pulls the dress from her wardrobe it snags on the latch and rips. “What?! Frick!” There’s a gaping hole in the chiffon overskirt. She sighs and puts it back. “Not meant to be, I guess,” she says to Toby who sits on her bed.

Tom is slightly late getting to her, so Molly waits on the stoop in her yellow dress. The drive to the church is like déjà vu. She recognises some of the scenery that they pass, but she could swear she’s never actually been to this church before.

They get there again in the nick of time. She finds the space next to Mrs. Hudson and registers that Sherlock looks stiff. The ceremony script is eerily familiar.  Everything is eerily familiar. Molly’s in a bit of a daze cataloguing all the things from her dream that are now happening in real life.

 _This is real life, isn’t it?_ She turns to Tom, “Pinch me.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Just pinch me. I think I’m hallucinating.” He gives her a very concerned look but agrees and pinches her forearm lightly. Nothing happens besides pain in her arm. She looks around and everything is the same as it was a moment ago.

“Molly, are you okay? You look pale.”

“Thanks...sorry. No, I’m fine.”

They go through the receiving line and congregate in the hall. Molly forces smiles for pictures and doesn’t kiss Tom on the cheek. She sits next to Lestrade and is comforted knowing that if she faints or freaks out he’ll know what to do.

Molly practically has a heart attack when Sherlock’s speech begins. It’s just the same as her dream. Everything is the same. How did she know it all would be like this? _How?!_ She excuses herself and leaves the hall after the telegrams. How could she possibly have known what was in those?! She runs to the ladies room and vomits from shock. She feels slightly better. _Definitely didn’t do that in the dream._ She washes up and returns to the hall. Tom checks if she’s ok and she brushes him off. Sherlock’s still mid-speech.

“It later transpired that I had said...”

“...none of this out loud.” she finishes with him in a whisper.

“What?” Tom leans in next to her.

“Nothing. Shh,” she waves him off again.

Greg’s response to Sherlock’s prodding for an answer to the remarkableness of the guardsman case is just the same. Tom’s hand goes up and panic floods through her. She grabs it, making him put it back down. But Sherlock still caught it and calls on him anyway. Tom starts to stand up but Molly stomps on his foot and he cries in pain. She forces herself to smile at Sherlock – who is looking at her for the first time that day. If she had been in her right mind she would have been silent, but instead she blurts out, “It’s John. He saves the life.”

Sherlock noticeably starts at her answer and stares at her. “That’s...right.” He continues to stare and clears his throat, trying to get back to his speech. “Umm...John Watson – who, um, saved a life.” Sherlock does recover and the speech progresses like it did in her dream. He drops his glass and leaps over the table. He dances around the tables and she tries to remain calm.

After the rushed toast Sherlock runs out of the hall, just as before. John follows, as does Mary. Molly hesitates at the table. Why should she follow them? She has no reason. But she excuses herself to Tom and Mrs. Hudson anyway, “Just need the loo again.” She finds them on the second floor, shouting at a closed door. She stays out of the way, not being noticed by any of them.

The uniformed man is apparently the soon-to-be-victim and his name is Major Sholto. He wants Sherlock to solve the case. Mary insists Sherlock’s able to do it now.

When Sherlock bites out, “Get your wife under control!” Molly almost leaps from her hiding place to smack him. But John’s already on it, berating his friend. She watches Sherlock pace the hall and enter his Mind Palace. Everyone registers the moment when he’s figured it out. The explanation is so improbable. _How could someone not realise they had been stabbed?_ Her questions are broken off when Sholto does not emerge from the room, and instead begins to welcome his death sentence. She feels like crying as she listens to them talk him off the metaphorical ledge. They are all so calm and brave.

“We wouldn’t do that, would we? You and me? We would never do that to John Watson.” Her heart is in her throat during the silence that follows.

Eventually the door opens and John and Mary enter. Sherlock stays behind in the hall catching his breath. Molly emerges from her hiding place then to comfort him, but she’s almost bowled over by the Maid of Honour running up the stairs. Sherlock looks up at her, “Janine! Everything’s fine although we will need an ambulance for Major Sholto.”

Molly turns and walks straight outside, into a corner of the garden to have a moment to herself. Tom finds her there eventually, with a lot of concern written on his face. She makes excuses of being too warm and dehydrated. They eventually return for the dancing.

As they renter she’s able to witness the hallway kerfuffle unfold. The photographer is the would-be murderer. She’s flooded with relief that the case has been solved. Her heart almost breaks when Sherlock offers his arm to Janine, but her arm is wrapped around Tom’s so what can she say?

The first dance is lovely again. Sherlock tosses his flower to Janine. Molly forces smiles and dances with Tom, although she keeps a closer eye on Sherlock this time. She tries desperately to listen to his conversation with John and Mary but it’s hard to overhear with the loud music.

“Well you’re hardly going to need me around when you have a real baby to look after.” _Real baby? Baby?_ Mary’s pregnant. She genuinely smiles then. She resumes dancing, still keeping an eye on Sherlock as he returns to the stage to clear his music. She loses sight of him when she looks back at her dancing partners. She searches the hall almost desperately for a few minutes. Eventually she leaves the room herself thinking he’s probably in another part of the inn.

She runs into a waiter, “Sorry! Sorry. Oh, did you see where the Best Man went? Tall, dark curly hair, cheek bones that could cut glass?”

The waiter laughs and nods, “Yeah, he just left.”

 _Left?_ Molly runs to the door but he’s nowhere to be found. After a few minutes of searching she gives up and returns to the party. A few hours later, Tom pulls up to her flat.

“Oh there’s a space! I could stay the night,” he says brightly, beginning to park.

She considers it for a moment, “Actually, I’ve got a bit of a headache, darling. I’m still not feeling well. But I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch though, right?” She exits his car with a peck to his cheek. She waves and smiles as he drives off. When he’s turned the corner her smile drops.

She dresses for bed and stares at the ceiling for a while thinking how strange everything was. _How did I know what was going to happen? Am I psychic? Did I get a bump on the head and not remember?_ She drifts off thinking of more questions.


	3. Saturday 18th May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3

Molly’s radio alarm goes off at exactly 9am playing Bruno Mars’ _When I Was Your Man_.

_“It all just sounds like, oooh… Too young, too dumb to realise that I should’ve bought you flowers and held your hand. Should’ve gave you all my hours when I had the chance...”_

“It’s not real. This isn’t happening.” She sits bolt up-right and grabs her phone. Saturday 18th May. “THIS ISN’T HAPPENING!” she shouts and Toby scatters out of her room.

She runs to the bathroom to look in the mirror and she pinches herself several times. “This isn’t happening,” is all she can say. _The dress,_ she suddenly remembers. It’s there, in her wardrobe. No coffee stain, no rips. She takes it out, being extra careful not to snag it on the latch. She puts it on, completely ignoring her shower. She thinks she’s in the clear until Toby startles her while she’s applying her make-up and she stabs herself in the chest with lipstick.

“Oh my fucking God. This isn’t happening.” She sinks to the bathroom floor and cries for a few moments. When she’s spent, she gets up and makes her coffee and toast, still wearing the stained dress. _What does it matter now?_

Tom pulls up to her flat, slightly late. She has the yellow dress on.

At the church Molly insists on sitting in the back, on the opposite side than they had before. Tom’s confused when he notices space next to Mrs. Hudson.

“No. No. I need to sit here,” Molly insists.

After the ceremony, Molly watches the photographer like a hawk. She’s crowded by other people so she loses sight of him a few times. Tom tries to pull her into conversation but she shrugs him away. She can’t wrap her head around why this is all happening again, but she knows she has to stop the almost-murder from occurring. Photos are over before she can do anything. She knows she’s failed and guilt fills her head and chest. _You didn’t stop it._

Molly tries to get Sherlock’s attention before they eat but she’s pulled at by Tom, and Sherlock slips away when she almost has the chance. What would she say, anyway?

She stays quiet for the beginning of his speech, but she doesn’t let “meat dagger” come close to happening. She tries to think ahead, about how she can change the outcome. After he leaps over the table she also jumps up suddenly and meets him in the middle of the floor. Everyone looks shocked at them both. Molly stares Sherlock down whispering, “Sholto is the victim. You have to save his life.”

He looks more shocked than anyone at that. His gaze only leaves her for a moment to look up at the Major. She can see the gears turning in his brain. Molly suddenly realises everyone is staring so she smiles and pats Sherlock on the shoulder. “A hand for the Best Man, everyone.” There’s weak applause and a lot of murmuring. “Sherlock, listen to me.” He looks at her again. “Did you hear me?”

“How did you...”

“Never mind, you call for an ambulance.” Sherlock suddenly kicks into gear and does as she says, pulling Major Sholto into the other room.

Molly returns to her table, allowing the reception to continue.

“Thank you Molly, dear,” Mrs. Hudson says, “that was getting a bit ridiculous.”

“I think he’s pissed,” Tom replies with a laugh.

Molly just turns to whisper to Lestrade who is staring at her, “You’re going to need to arrest the photographer when you can. Lock the building down and send for back-up now.” He just continues to stare at her. “Do it now! Ask Sherlock if you don’t believe me!”

Molly then makes her way behind the head table to speak to John and Mary. She crouches down between them and explains what’s happened to Sholto. They both jump up immediately but Molly calms them down and lets them know Sherlock is taking care of it. They do remain seated and return to their other guests.

Molly leaves the hall, thinking she’d done all she can. She sits in the garden and tries not to cry, bargaining with God. _What is going on? Why are you doing this? Will this end?_ Tom finds her a while later. She plasters on a fake smile and tells him everything is fine but she needs a moment alone. She knows the ambulance comes and the photographer is arrested. She finds another hiding place in the garden when others come to check she’s ok. Lestrade finds her again.

“Come on, Molly. Time to dance.” She almost refuses but he grabs her by the arms and forces her inside. They stand at the back of the hall as Sherlock plays his waltz for John and Mary, and she remains there when the other music begins. Molly watches Sherlock as he returns to the stage to fold up his music. He looks around but she turns her face and hides behind a throng of other people. She knows he leaves and she asks Tom to take her home a short while later.


	4. Saturday 18th May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4

Molly’s radio alarm goes off at exactly 9am playing Bruno Mars’ _When I Was Your Man_.

_“It all just sounds like, oooh… Too young, too dumb to realise that I should’ve bought you flowers and held your hand. Should’ve gave you all my hours when I had the chance...”_

She keeps her eyes closed and lets the song play through before turning it off. She checks her phone, just to be sure. Saturday 18th May. _Ok. It’s ok. You can do this. Stop the photographer this time._

She doesn’t even bother getting the blue dress out. She calls Tom and tells him he’s going to be late if he doesn’t leave now. He’s actually on time when he gets to her flat.

She finds Major Sholto in the crowd and takes a seat near his. After the exit procession as he starts to leave she calls out to him, “Major Sholto!” He stops and turns. “Hi!” she says weakly trying to think of something to do. “You probably don’t remember me...I umm...grew up on your street. Molly Hooper?” As expected he just looks confused. “No, of course you wouldn’t that was long ago. Never mind. How is everything?”

She tries to keep the conversation going while everyone else files out of the church. John pops back in after a moment, “Ah, Molly. Major Sholto. You have to have your photo taken too. Orders of the happy couple.” He won’t take no for an answer and practically drags them outside.

Molly stays glued to Sholto’s side and watches the photographer approach them. He tries to direct her to move away from Sholto but she doesn’t really obey. As the photographer walks behind her to physically separate them she reels back and elbows him in the nose. She turns to pounce on him in case he fights back, but he’s lying on the ground and too stunned to move. He’s also holding the thin spear in his hand which has cut his side. There’s a small blood stain forming on his shirt.

“Oh my God, why do you have a weapon?!” she asks loudly and tries to make it seem realistic. “Lestrade! Arrest this man!”

There’s a bit of commotion during which the photographer is hauled off and arrested for possessing a weapon. Molly inspects Sholto to make sure he wasn’t accidentally impaled at all. Everything’s fine and she smiles to herself at a job well done. She actually tries to enjoy the reception, dancing with Tom, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, John and Mary, and even Janine briefly. She doesn't even consider the possibility of dancing with Sherlock.


	5. Saturday 18th May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5-10

Molly’s radio alarm goes off at exactly 9am playing Bruno Mars’ _When I Was Your Man_.

_“It all just sounds like, oooh… Too young, too dumb to realise that I should’ve bought you flowers and held your hand. Should’ve gave you all my hours when I had the chance...”_

There’s nothing she can do. This is just going to keep happening. She saved the life before it needed saving. What else was there to change?

She wears her yellow dress. She and Tom are either slightly late, or on time, or early. She elbows the photographer. He gets arrested. She hides in the garden. She stays for the dances.


	6. Saturday 18th May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11

Molly’s radio alarm goes off at exactly 9am playing Bruno Mars’ _When I Was Your Man_.

_“It all just sounds like, oooh… Too young, too dumb to realise that I should’ve bought you flowers and held your hand. Should’ve gave you all my hours when I had the chance...”_

_Ok. Change something else._ She opens her wardrobe and surveys everything she owns. She wears the black dress with the rhinestones. It’s not really appropriate for a day wedding but it doesn’t matter because she gets out of the house and to the church without incident. She gets the photographer arrested before he can stab Sholto. She gets eye-fucked by almost every warm blooded male at the reception. She dances. She goes home alone.


	7. Saturday 18th May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12-25

Molly’s radio alarm goes off at exactly 9am playing Bruno Mars’ _When I Was Your Man_.

_“It all just sounds like, oooh… Too young, too dumb to realise that I should’ve bought you flowers and held your hand. Should’ve gave you all my hours when I had the chance...”_

She’s tried changing everything at this point. She’s worn every dress she owns – except for the blue one – and even went in just her jimjams once. Nothing works. She begins to get more and more irritated with Tom at each return to the 18th of May. He accuses her of being on edge. She wants to kill him.


	8. Saturday 18th May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 26

Molly’s radio alarm goes off at exactly 9am playing Bruno Mars’ _When I Was Your Man_.

_“It all just sounds like, oooh… Too young, too dumb to realise that I should’ve bought you flowers and held your hand. Should’ve gave you all my hours when I had the chance...”_

She sits up and calls Tom right away. “I’m sorry, dear but I can’t go to the wedding. I’m really ill.”

She lays around her flat all day. She eats junk food and watches crap telly. Mrs. Hudson rings her but Molly doesn’t answer. She defiantly watches the clock until she can’t keep her eyes open any longer.


	9. Saturday 18th May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 27-41

Molly’s radio alarm goes off at exactly 9am playing Bruno Mars’ _When I Was Your Man_.

_“It all just sounds like, oooh… Too young, too dumb to realise that I should’ve bought you flowers and held your hand. Should’ve gave you all my hours when I had the chance...”_

Nothing works. Nothing. It keeps happening. She's at her wit's end but she still feels compelled to break the cycle and save Sholto's life. 

She’s learned everything she can about every guest at the wedding (four lawyers, ten doctors, seven nurses, two salesmen, one estate agent, butchers, bankers, candlestick makers). She even hangs around the kitchen and staff areas to try to change what they do. She was only successful in getting them to change the meal once.

She’s had the photographer arrested, she’s accidentally killed him twice, and once on purpose. She was taken into custody after that but she still woke up in her own bed.

She’s broken up with Tom at least ten times, all in different ways.

She's been the last guest to leave several times, and once insisted on spending the night in the garden. She always wakes up in her own bed.


	10. Saturday 18th May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 42

Molly’s radio alarm goes off at exactly 9am playing Bruno Mars’ _When I Was Your Man_.

_“It all just sounds like, oooh… Too young, too dumb to realise that I should’ve bought you flowers and held your hand. Should’ve gave you all my hours when I had the chance...”_

“This is it. It’s going to be different today.” How many times has she told herself this before? She gets up, calls Tom immediately. She breaks up with him and pulls the ring off her finger before he can even protest. She showers, grabs the yellow dress, throws her shoes and accessories in a bag and catches a cab to 221B Baker Street.

Mrs. Hudson answers the door, “Molly, sweetie everything okay?”

“Yes, fine. Do you mind if I join you and Sherlock on the way to the wedding? Tom’s not coming.” Nodding, Mrs. Hudson lets her in, takes her dress and bag, and offers to make tea. “Thank you, I’m alright. I actually need to speak with Sherlock. Do you know if he’s awake?”

Molly doesn’t really wait for an answer and bounds up the stairs. Sherlock’s more than a little surprised to see her. “Molly? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt but I need to talk to you right now. Something strange has been happening to me and I don’t know how to stop it.”

“What is it? Is someone threatening you? Where’s Tom? Is it him? I’ll call Lestrade and have him arrested immediately.”

“No, no. I uhh...” suddenly the whole thing sounds ridiculous but what else is she going to do? She’s never tried this before, telling another person what's happening. “I think I’m...God.” His face falls and he looks at her with fear. “...or...something,” she continues. He tries to move away from her. “No, no. I know. It’s crazy, right? Maybe not God. Maybe God is just punishing me. But I keep...umm...reliving today. John and Mary’s wedding. Over and over.” He just stares at her. She takes a deep breath and tries to think of something to say that will convince him. “Your speech! I know how your speech goes! I’ve heard it over 30 times!” He raises an eyebrow. She begins reciting, “Ladies and gentleman, family and friends, and others.” He’s unmoved. “Wait, wait. The telegrams! One of them goes, ‘To Mr and Mrs Watson. So sorry I’m unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stamford.’”

He scoffs, “You could have been there when he wrote it.”

“Another says, ‘To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day. With love and many big squishy cuddles, from Stella and Ted.’ You absolutely _hate_ that one.” Sherlock makes a face of disgust. “Oh and then there’s, ‘Oodles of love and heaps of good wishes from Cam. Wish your family could have seen this.’” She waits for a reaction but he doesn’t move. “You didn’t know John was asking you to be his Best Man. You didn’t expect to be anyone’s best friend, let alone Best Man. You say we’re honouring the death-watch beetle that will be the doom of society and eventually our species! You’re going to play a waltz you composed on your violin especially for their first dance.” Sherlock’s face relaxes but remains skeptical. “Look, ok don’t believe me right now. We’ll go together and I’ll show you.”

He straightens and looks her over, “Tom not coming?”

“Huh? Oh, no,” she waves her left hand in the air. “We’re finished.” She takes a breath and looks at him hopefully. “Will you let me show you? A man’s life depends on it. And I know who stabbed your Bloody Guardsman.” That seems to snap something in him to attention and he agrees almost right away.

They dress and get to the church early. They stand in a back corner as Molly tells him everything she’s learned about everyone as they enter – including that Mary’s pregnant and they should keep her from drinking alcohol. How many glasses of wine had she “accidentally” knocked out of Mary’s hands already?

The photographer shows up and speaks to John first. “That’s him. That’s the stabber. He’s explaining that the other photographer got ill and he’s the last-minute replacement. He also happens to be the brother of one of the soldiers that was killed while under Major Sholto’s care. Sholto is the target. It’s revenge...obviously.” She finally looks at Sherlock who is staring at her with concern but also amazement.

“How...I mean...and when?” he stammers, looking away.

“He has a retractable blade. You already know it’s very thin. He stabs him from behind, while the photos are being taken. Sholto’s belt is tight and the pain somehow goes unnoticed and keeps his flesh together. It’s all improbable, yes. But, like Private Bainbridge, he won’t notice that he’s slowly bleeding out.”

“I’ll get Lestrade.”

“No! You have to wait. I’ll have Lestrade get a car here to take him away, but he has to be caught in the act to be charged with attempted murder. It’s not enough that it’s just weapons possession. ...I don’t think.” Sherlock gives her a surprised look. “No, no. We can stop him before he actually hurts the Major. I’ve done it _loads_ of times. But he needs to be just about to strike. It’s after the ceremony, during the photos.” She holds his gaze and pleads, “Two years ago you said you always trusted me. You have to trust me, now. Please, Sherlock.” Eventually, he nods. “Besides, John gets _super_ bratty when the ceremony is interrupted.” She almost laughs and she knows he’s trying not to smile.

The ceremony begins and ends without incident. Molly sits in the last row with Lestrade – who has a car on stand-by around the corner.  Sherlock occasionally glances at her anxiously.

As the bridal party exits she jumps up to intercept Major Sholto like she’s done so many times before. She stands with him as their photo is set up, and nods pointedly at Sherlock – who hasn’t taken his eyes off of her or the photographer – to come over. He steps into action, joining the photo arrangement.

“When he comes around behind. Be ready,” she whispers to him.

Sure enough, a second later the photographer steps behind them to adjust their spacing. Sherlock and Molly follow his movements and they both reach up to shove him back when the blade is produced. Of all the times she’s done this, she’s never had Sherlock by her side. She stands over the stunned photographer, ready to pounce again if needed. “Lestrade, please arrest this man for the attempted murder of Major Sholto.” She’s breathing heavily from the adrenaline but otherwise completely in control.

Sherlock’s hand finds her wrist and he pulls her back as Lestrade and his officers arrest the photographer. She goes with him willingly, and he tugs her around the corner of the church, away from everyone else. He whirls her around and her back gently meets the wall. He stares down at her, studying her face with narrowed eyes. She looks back at him, concerned about what he sees and what he’s not saying. She licks her lips unconsciously, and his eyes flick down to watch it happen.

“Molly,” he breathes after a second, “how did you...that was...amazing. You are...I can’t even...”

She can’t help but smile with relief, “Thank you, Sherlock. Now do you believe me?” They gaze at each other for a few moments just smiling. She tries to memorize the freckle pattern in his eyes. If she has to live this day forever, this scenario has been the best so far. His hand comes up to cup her cheek and tilt her chin up slightly. She braces herself against the wall and rises up on her toes to bring their faces closer. He glances at her mouth again and leans in just a bit. It makes her head swim.

“Sherlock, Molly, there you are!” John walks around the corner toward them. Sherlock drops his hand and takes a big step back. Molly doesn’t move and just watches him walk away with John. Apparently one of the guests has volunteered to fill in as photographer (as they always do) and they want to resume photo taking. _Great._

The day progresses into the reception meal. Sholto makes a point of sticking with Molly and thanking her for saving his life. Sherlock makes excuses as to why Mary can’t have wine. He runs interference with her and keeps stealing glances at Molly. She doesn’t hide the fact that she’s been watching him. He appears to make several moves toward her when he can, but is always stopped by some guest or other talking about the arrest, how exciting it was, and how it must happen to him all the time. _You have no idea._

During the meal Molly pokes at her food. She’s eaten the same meal for over a month. _God, has it been that long?_ She has no way of knowing if this time is enough. Not that much has been different to the other days. Except...Sherlock keeps looking at her. He’s relaxed, focused on his tasks, but watching her regardless.

“Pray silence for the Best Man,” is shouted, as it always is, and Sherlock stands up to begin his speech.

“Ladies and gentleman, family and friends, and others,” he smiles to himself. “Thank you all for joining in the celebration of the marriage of John and Mary Watson. Before I begin, I shall read the telegrams from those who couldn’t make it today. Well, they’re not actually telegrams. We just  _call_  them telegrams. I don’t know why. Wedding tradition. ...Because we don’t have enough of that already, apparently,” Sherlock glances up as the guests giggle.

Molly grins at him when his eyes find hers. To her knowledge, he’s never gotten this far without stammering. She’s filled with joy and pride as the audience remains enraptured with his speech. He delivers the jibes at marriage and religion like the jokes they are meant to be, and he doesn’t lose a single listener.

He doesn’t skip the story about The Bloody Guardsman, instead just notes that the would-be killer was caught much later. John hugs him and the guests applaud. She gets a nod when she’s mentioned during the retelling of the stag night story.

“I was going to blame Dr. Hooper for miscalculating the proper limits for alcohol consumption but I’ve been recently informed that John may have tampered with the samples.” He shoots an incredulous look at John who shrugs and fakes being scandalised.

She knows the last lines of his speech but she’s surprised that he looks only at her while he says them, “I will solve your murder, but it takes John Watson to save your life. Trust me on that – I should know. He’s saved mine so many times, and in so many ways.” He glances back at John and smiles. “This blog is the story of two men and their frankly ridiculous adventures of murder and mystery. Ladies and gentlemen, pray charge your glasses and be upstanding. Today begin the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson. To the bride and groom.”

“To the bride and groom!” everyone echoes and cheers.

Molly stays at the table with Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade for a while as Sherlock is again accosted by guests giving compliments and asking questions. She watches him avoid advances from women and men, and smiles to herself.

She steps out into the garden a few minutes later. She doesn’t hide, just walks around and enjoys the sun. Other guests follow her lead eventually. _Was that enough? The life was saved. The (almost) murder was solved. Sherlock made it through his speech beautifully._ At the edge of the garden she turns and watches the other guests mill around. She notices Sherlock watching her from the doorway after a moment. But he’s soon dragged away by a very animated Mary.

She stays outside as long as she can, just breathing and praying as the night grows darker. She's seated by the fountain with her head in her hands when Sherlock sits next to her, “So, what happens next?”

She sits up quickly, “Oh, um. Well, all the guests will gather back in the hall for the first dance. Mary will giggle when John dips her at the end unexpectedly. You have taken your boutonniere off to play the violin and when you’re finished you toss it to the Maid of Honour, Janine.”

He considers her thoughtfully, “Is that all?”

“The first song the DJ plays is _December, 1963 (Oh, What A Night)_.” He just nods.

A few minutes later Lestrade calls him back in for the first dance. Molly stands with Greg in the back again, happily watching Sherlock. Everyone applauds as he finishes playing and John dips Mary. He holds his boutonniere up and Molly’s heart is ready to sink as it always does when he throws it to Janine. But instead he just lowers his hand and steps off the stage. The dance music begins and she sees Sherlock look around the hall. She suddenly remembers what happens next. He leaves without a word to anyone.

It takes her a second to move into action, and a few more seconds to make her way across the crowded dance floor. He’s headed out the door by the time she gets to where he was. Cursing herself, she pushes past everyone to follow him. He’s flipping up his coat collar and walking briskly as she calls out to him,

“Sherlock!” He stops and turns. She quickly covers the distance between them. “Where do you think you’re going?” she asks with a warm smile. He just looks at her for a moment, then down at his feet. She shivers slightly and reaches a hand out to him. “Come on, you have to dance with me.” He looks from her hand to her face and back again, before wrapping his fingers around hers and pulling her closer. She follows his direction willingly and places her other hand on his chest, trying to control her breathing.

“How many times have we danced, Molly Hooper?” he asks in a quiet voice, wrinkling his brow.

She swallows hard and looks into his eyes, “Never. Not once.” He seems to relax. “That’s why you have to do it this time.”

He looks at her deeply for a long moment, “You are truly remarkable, do you even know that?”

“No, I’m...just...” she doesn’t meet his gaze at first. “No, Sherlock. You’re the remarkable one. You can both solve the murder and save the life. You’ve done it without me, and without John. I watched you do it in dramatic fashion so many times. You’re the only reason why I knew what to do _this_ time.” _And a month's worth of times I've been doing it since._

He leans his forehead against hers and she reaches her free hand up to his neck. His other arm wraps around her back and holds her closely. Their breath gets mingled together, and Molly closes her eyes to enjoy the feel of his skin and warmth against her. His touch is everything she's ever wanted. He shifts his head ever so slowly, and the first touch of his lips is so faint. He begins to pull away when she grips his neck tighter and pulls him down again. Their second kiss is unmistakable. For a moment, all that exists in the world is his lips, and his hands gripping her tightly.

They break apart with ragged breaths. “That’s a first,” she admits with a broad smile.

He presses his cheek into hers. After a second, they begin to sway out of time with the upbeat music wafting out from the hall. They’re still holding each other close three songs later, but Sherlock finally notices that Molly shivers again. Goose pimples are evident on her arms.

“Come on, I’ll take you home,” he tugs her hand toward the car park.

“Ok, but we have to say goodbye to John and Mary. Well, you do. Just to be safe.”

“I’ve never done that before either?”

“No,” she looks at him with concern that he might refuse. Instead he straightens up and strides back inside.

She follows him in and watches from a distance as he talks solemnly to John. After a moment they smile and embrace, John patting him on the back several times. Mary kisses Sherlock on both cheeks before hugging him. He strides back to Molly and offers her his arm. Molly waves to John and Mary who are watching and they smile and wave back.

The drive back to London and Molly’s flat is quiet. This has never happened before so she’s not sure what she’s supposed to do. The open parking space is there as it always is and Sherlock parks the car without any instruction from her. He gets out, rushes around to her side, and offers her a hand as he holds the door open. She takes his hand and holds on to it as they approach her front door, dropping it only briefly to let them in, and takes it again as they ascend the stairs.

She’s trying to remember the number of times he’s used her flat as a bolt hole before. _How many times has he slept in my bed to get away from Baker Street?_ They had never touched like this, or at _all_ for this long. Toby greets them at the door and Sherlock bends briefly to stroke his head affectionately.

He closes the distance between them after he straightens up, and takes her head in his hands. They gaze at each other for a second before he leans down and kisses her tenderly. Well, it starts out tender, but soon becomes desperate and firm. _No matter how long you have to redo this day, remember this one forever._ She clutches at his torso, keeping him close and responding to the pressure and hunger in his lips. She pushes his overcoat off his shoulders and kicks off her shoes as she starts to walk backward toward the bedroom. He follows her lead and doesn’t break away from their kissing while they shuffle.

They fall almost ungracefully onto her bed. His body basically covers hers, though he stays propped up as to not completely crush her. He only stops kissing her when she begins to undo his waistcoat and push at his jacket.

He presses his forehead to hers and they both catch their breath, “Wait.”

She nods, “Ok. It’s ok.” _He doesn’t want this. It’s ok. Just enjoy whatever happens_. “We can stop.”

“No,” he says thickly. He shifts back and looks at her nightstand, “It’s almost midnight.”

She sits up and notices the time. “Oh. I don’t actually...I mean...I never timed when it reset. I just wake up and it’s Saturday.” They stare at the clock as it flips to 11:59pm. She looks at him nervously, not wanting him to disappear, but wanting to study every inch of him in case he does. He notices her watching him so he leans in again and kisses her sweetly. “Please don’t leave,” she whispers against his lips.

“Never,” he wraps his arm around her as they resume their vigil.

Her heart beats through her chest in time with the clock marking the seconds. She holds her breath. _Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat_...It flips over to 12am. They both sit up straighter and continue to stare at the clock for a second before finally looking at each other.

He lets out a slow breath and gives her a questioning glance, needing direction. She just shrugs slightly shocked and amused. “I guess we continue to wait and see?”

Sherlock kisses her again before standing up and removing most of his wedding clothes. He keeps his trousers and socks on, and loosens several shirt buttons. Molly removes her bow and lets her hair down. He rejoins her on the bed wrapping his arms around her.

He makes her tell more about what she’s been through. She lets him know his last speech was his best, and how nervous he’d been all the other times. She also lets him know that she was concerned for him several weeks ahead of time, trying to think of ways to help him get through it. He’s stunned by that, that she would know he'd be nervous, and try to help. She shrugs it off and they talk more about nothing in particular, but his grip on her remains tight.

Eventually their conversation slows. Molly’s eyes begin to droop and she knows Sherlock is similarly tired. She yawns and curses. “No, I have to stay awake. I can’t wake up without you.” He shushes her and she nuzzles her head into his chest and sighs. _Don’t forget me, Sherlock. Please don’t leave._ He rubs her back and holds her close. And as much as she fights against it, sleep comes.


	11. Saturday 18th May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After thinking long and hard about it I made another day. It's really long.

Molly’s radio alarm goes off at exactly 9am playing Bruno Mars’ _When I Was Your Man_ , and she wants to die.

_“It all just sounds like, oooh… Too young, too dumb to realise that I should’ve bought you flowers and held your hand. Should’ve gave you all my hours when I had the chance...”_

She pounds on the alarm to turn it off and curls up to weep alone in her bed. The loss of him is almost too much. She refuses to get up. _What’s the point?_ The stress of the repeated days, and the notion that they may be infinite weighs heavy on her heart.

She takes deep breaths and eventually dries her eyes. If this is her own personal hell she’s going to make the best of it. If she’s actually gone insane and living this in her mind she’s going to find the one thing that makes her feel good. Having Sherlock Holmes by her side for a few hours is just how she will live.

After calling and breaking up with Tom (again) she grabs her yellow dress and gathers her shoes and things in her bag. She has a fleeting wish that she could at least keep the bag packed for the eternity she will have to spend reliving this day.

The same cabbie from yesterday takes her to Baker Street, she rings the buzzer and Mrs. Hudson answers. Molly is apologetic and Mrs. Hudson dotes on her for a moment. Molly takes the stairs two at a time, eager to see his face. When he greets her, he’s slightly alarmed and concerned. Her heart breaks a tiny bit. Suddenly she’s not sure that this is the best scenario for an eternity, but she craves his presence regardless.

“Sherlock, I’m sorry to interrupt but I need to talk to you right now. Something strange has been happening to me and I don’t know how to stop it.” She purposely chooses to open the conversation the same as yesterday ( _today_.)

“What is it? Is someone stalking you? Where’s Tom? Is it him? I’ll call Lestrade and have him arrested immediately.” The tone of his echoed concern fills her with utter joy.

“No, nothing like that,” she waves a reassuring hand at him. The action of his eyes flicking down to her bare fingers may have gone unnoticed any other day. But Molly’s taken to observing everything in the hopes that she’ll find the one thing that will break this curse. _That’s right, no ring._ She smiles internally but remains serious, “Something is going to happen today at the wedding. I need you to believe what I’m about to tell you.”

“Ok,” he says cautiously, gesturing for her to sit on the sofa, and then taking the spot next to her.

It occurs to her that this is where they once spent a few hours seeing clients. But on that day he had distanced himself from them by standing or sitting elsewhere. Having him next to her was more intimate and reassuring. She’s filled with a sudden desire to curl up with her head in his lap and shut everything else out. _Maybe tomorrow_.

“This is going to sound mad; please don’t say anything until I’m done.” He nods and stares at her intently. “I’ve been reliving this day...the wedding. Like, actually reliving it, not just running it through my mind again and again. Well, at least I think this is real. I have no way of knowing for sure. I know every detail of the ceremony and the venue, and just everything.” She can’t look at him while she babbles and takes a deep breath to get on track. “At the wedding today Major Sholto will be attacked by the photographer.”

“How do you know who-” he starts to question her but is stopped when she gives him a sharp look.

“The photographer is the brother of one of the soldiers who died under Sholto’s care. He’s going to be stabbed in the back, just under his uniform’s belt, with a retractable blade. Just like Private Bainbridge.” His eyebrows rise when she mentions the name she has no reason to remember. “In your speech you use the as-yet unsolved Bloody Guardsman case to illustrate how John is a life saver.” His face shifts in shock.

“It’s really beautiful. You should skip the Mayfly Man story, though. It doesn’t go over as well. Oh, and the photographer _was_ the Mayfly Man.” He actually lets his mouth drop open at that one but remains silent. “I know. I know! Otherwise it’s a really good speech, trust me, I’ve heard it enough times to know.” She can’t help but smile nervously and Sherlock seems to relax slightly.

“You’re going to hate the telegrams, but it’s tradition so do it anyway. Oh, and Mary’s pregnant by the way. You deduce it over the course of the day when she admits to being sick this morning and then hates the taste of the wine. You almost announce it to the whole room after you’ve played the waltz you composed for their first dance.” She looks at him hopefully, waiting for further reactions. “I have no right to know these things. And I can go on! ...Do you trust me?” He scrutinizes her for what feels like an eternity, but then jumps up and fishes his mobile out of the pocket of his dressing gown. “Who are you calling?” she asks suddenly worried about being carted off and taken to hospital.

“Booking a new photographer,” he says casually, walking into the kitchen, “We’re going to need a replacement when this one gets arrested.”

\---

Molly and Sherlock stand at the back of the church and watch the guests trickle in. “That group over there are all Mary's friends from her first nursing job. The row behind is mostly fellow staff from the clinic and their significant others. One couple is buying a house.”

Sherlock narrows his eyes and presses his lips together. “Um, Floral Dress Grey Hat is a bit of a shut-in.” Molly makes a small motion toward the woman, “Really likes animals and _The Only Way is Essex_.” She nods at the next woman, “Blue Dress Cream Hat over there is John’s cousin. She doesn't really like Mary. I suspect she’s just jealous of her. She goes home with Cowboy Boots right there in the blue.”

Sherlock looks the gentleman over and lets out a small laugh, “Good. He has erectile dysfunction issues. She'll have a horrible time.”

Molly grins and shakes her head, “He’s also a doctor, and has a ginger cat.”

“And an ex-wife. Who else do you know about?”

“I know a little bit about everyone. Enough for small talk at least. Beige Suit Purple Shirt is a sci-fi/comics fan. Very nice guy but his date is going to break up with him tonight and go home with someone else.” He looks rather impressed as he scrutinises the couple and confirms her deduction. “You told me that one. Well, you told the whole room that one.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Oh,” he looks more than a little guilty.

The ceremony commences and is beautiful as per usual. Molly makes a mental note to come up with a drinking game for tomorrow’s repeat performance. Maybe she can be shit-faced before the Best Man speech. _Maybe Sherlock will join me_.

On a few previous occasions she’d gotten quite drunk just to pass the time. She’d woken up hang-over free and praised God for small favours. One time, she convinced Janine to drink as well. She wanted to see how sloppy she could get the Maid of Honour. As it turned out, Janine made noises like a chipmunk when she laughed, to the amusement of everyone.

Molly smiles and almost giggles to herself at the memory but notices Sherlock looking at her from his place at the altar. He raises an eyebrow and she bites her lips guiltily.

When the guests begin to file out after the happy couple, Molly doesn’t miss her cue to intercept Major Sholto. Their small talk is the same as it always is and they are wrangled into a group photo after a few minutes.

Molly’s too caught up in thinking about the banality of it all and almost forgets to signal for Sherlock. He’s waiting for his prompt while speaking to Janine just off to the side. He starts to break away to take a place next to her but the photographer is already moving behind the group. Molly has no choice but to take him out on her own again. As the blade is produced she rears back, catching the man in the chest with her elbow, and sweeps his leg to land him flat on his back. The rush of taking him down never gets old. She feels powerful and alive, and it shows in her stance.

Sherlock’s hand wraps around her wrist and drags her away, while Lestrade and his men swoop in like they did yesterday. Once they’re around the corner he presses her against the wall of the church just as before. He holds her there with a gentle hand on her hip ( _that’s new_ ), gazing at her with a mix of astonishment and admiration.

“Molly, that was...brilliant. You were...I...This is how John must feel!”

She smiles broadly, completely taken aback. _I’ll have to do that again tomorrow_. “Thank you, Sherlock.” She licks her lips a second later and his eyes flit down to watch. His own lips part slightly as his breath seems to catch and the fingers on her hip press a little harder into her flesh. The mood between them changes.

This is one of the parts she loves from yesterday. Just being alone with him for sixty seconds. She knows John is going to come around the corner and disrupt them but she doesn't care. To live in this quiet moment is her temporary heaven. Sherlock leans in and despite herself Molly tilts her face up invitingly. She takes a deep breath preparing for Sherlock to walk away when they are interrupted in five seconds. His free hand comes up to her neck and she knows her pulse is beating hard against his fingers. Sherlock leans his face down even further and their noses brush. Her eyes fix on his prefect lips, daring him to close the distance before they can be stopped. 

 “Ahem,” John takes a few steps around the church. Molly moves to face him but Sherlock doesn’t, and his lips crash into her cheek. She gasps at the touch, berating herself for moving.

“Sherlock, Molly, there you are,” John deadpans accusingly, taking a few more steps toward them.

Sherlock sighs against her ear and finally turns toward their friend. "Timing, John,” he mumbles. Molly freezes, holding herself together. Sherlock’s hands disappear from her body but he doesn’t move far.

“There’s a new photographer here. She said you called this morning? How did you know?”

“I have my ways, John.” Sherlock does step away now to turn John back to the other guests. Before they pass the corner Sherlock turns to Molly and gestures for her to follow.

\---

After getting mobbed by basically all of the guests, things get back to normal and they move onto the reception. Before the meal, Molly’s there when Sherlock takes John and Mary aside to reveal that Mary’s pregnant. They take it well, John a little miffed that he hadn’t realised first. Molly is the first to congratulate them. She’s able to have another moment alone with Sherlock when they walk away in a daze.

“Well, didn’t go as expected,” he says. She just nods, it had been _mostly_ different, but considering how many times she’s witnessed this wedding it’s all quite ordinary. “Ah. Right,” he says realising.

“You have a speech to give,” she forces herself to smile.

He nods, “Any tips?”

“Get the telegrams over with quickly, remember how brilliant you are, and look at John if you get nervous.”

“And you.”

“Hm?” she wrinkles her brow.

He just smiles and bends down to brush his lips on her cheek before walking away.

Mrs. Hudson chats animatedly during the dinner, doting on Molly and Lestrade for their actions. Molly mostly nods and smiles. Occasionally she steals a glance at the head table and meets Sherlock’s eyes. Butterflies fill her stomach each time. She completely loses her appetite during the main course when she watches him chat with Janine. She tells herself not to be jealous but it’s not so easily stamped out.

The emcee stands finally and announces Sherlock’s speech. He gives the room a soft smile, letting his eyes rest on Molly for a few seconds. It goes as smoothly as it did the day before. She lets her mind wander, thankful for the excuse to stare unreservedly. He holds her gaze several times during the speech and it’s almost over quicker than she was expecting.

His eyes find hers as he delivers his last lines, only breaking to acknowledge John and Mary where appropriate. He doesn’t look away from Molly as they raise their glasses and it’s as if she’s the only one he’s talking to.

Soon the meal concludes and guests start mingling again. Molly remains seated knowing that Sherlock will be busy talking to people like he always is. She’s surprised when he appears at her side a short while later, taking her elbow and pulling her outside. “I think you could use some fresh air.” He directs her quickly to the garden, but once there his pace slows to a stroll. They meander together in the sunshine, not speaking for a while.

It’s heavenly to be here with him, to be by his side just existing. It makes her feel complete, like it’s all she’s ever wanted. And it probably is. She tries to remember days spent working at Bart’s with him, just the mundane days, not even the extraordinary ones. She’s suddenly overcome with sadness at her situation and her chin quivers before she can push it away. Of course Sherlock notices, stopping to place gentle hands on her shoulders, gazing at her inquisitively.

“I know you don’t like emotions and sentiment but...it’s just...this is the greatest scenario I’ve gone through. But I can’t help hating it at the same time.” She takes a deep, calming breath, centring herself to keep from shaking. He makes her sit on a stone bench nearby and takes a seat next to her. She gives a forced smile to keep from scaring him away.

“Does something else happen tonight? Something we need to look out for?”

“No, no. Danger is averted. You’ll play beautifully and everyone will be in awe. John and Mary will be blissfully happy. And you’ll toss your boutonniere to Janine.” He gives her a short smile and she’s left to her thoughts. “But...please don’t.” He glances back at her seriously. “And don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“I do that?” he seems surprised.

“You have.” They sit in silence for a few minutes. Eventually he stands and holds out a hand to her. They resume walking around the garden, hand-in-hand for a while longer. Molly thinks about the night before and tries to remember how many seconds it was that they remained touching.  She knows that in short order they will be disturbed again and drawn back inside. She wonders if there would ever be any way she could convince Sherlock to skip the wedding and spend an entire day with her. Logging these short bouts of familiarity with him is delightful torture.

Lestrade finds them a half-hour later, calling them back in for the first dance, like he always does. He seems slightly astonished to see their hands clasped but doesn’t remark on it. It is decidedly worse knowing Sherlock won’t remember any of this tomorrow when she has to relive it all again.

Of course he plays beautifully, of course John and Mary are captivating. _Dip. Kiss. Applause._ _Oh, what a night._

Molly wants to run away and stop everything. She turns toward the open door to the garden and takes several slightly hesitant steps outside. She almost starts running, but before she can get anywhere a large, familiar hand grabs her wrist. Sherlock pulls her back and without letting go, places his boutonniere in her palm. She stares at it in disbelief for a few seconds before taking it between the fingers of her free hand and finally meeting his eyes. His expression is hard to read in the moonlight. Concern? Trepidation? Her heart is in her throat and her mouth is bone dry.

“We’ve kissed and you don’t remember.” She practically blurts out the confession. As soon as it’s said she wants to be sick. His face falls but his grip on her wrist tightens. She’s sure he’s going to be angry and disgusted with her. She doesn’t expect him to lean his forehead against hers and sigh, which is what he does.

“Is that what’s been bothering you all day?” She nods cautiously. “You thwarted an attempted murderer this morning, you know that, right?” He pulls away and smiles warmly.

“That’s always the easy part,” she quips. He chuckles lightly and pulls her into his chest. “I love you, Sherlock. You are the one good thing I take away every time I go through this.” She wishes she hadn’t just said that. She’s sure he’s going to pull away now. _It won’t matter. I’ll just do this again tomorrow._

His eyes search her face, looking for something, brows knitted, very serious. “I am...so in love with you, Molly Hooper,” he says with a hard swallow. In her wildest dreams she never thought she’d hear him say that. Her head spins, her mouth drops open, and she finds it too hard to breathe let alone speak. “I didn’t realise it until I had to die. I was dreading seeing you today with that...idiot.” He scrunches up his face briefly.

“More than giving your speech?” she says weakly and tries to smile. The weight of his words sit heavy in her chest. Molly has split up with Tom so many times he doesn’t seem relevant to her life anymore.  

Sherlock’s serious face cracks into a reserved grin, which widens when Molly unconsciously bites her bottom lip. “Erm. The jury’s out,” he jokes. She laughs lightly and presses on his chest playfully. He shifts his grip and pulls her even closer, snaking his free hand around her waist.

She rises up on her toes, pressing her body into his chest, and bringing their faces closer. He studies her for a quick second and before she can react his lips are on hers. Stars burst behind her eyelids and she no longer registers the din from the reception hall. She can feel his heart beating rapidly through his layers of clothing and her fingers clutch at the fabric of their own accord.

When they break apart it’s only to catch ragged breaths for a moment. Part of her still wants to feel guilty that this is a one-sided first kiss. And another part of her wants to feel sad that they may never do more than this because they have to start all over every morning.

Their faces stay level and she pushes her cheek into his. “Sherlock,” she breathes and practically gulps for air. A debate rages in her mind in a matter of seconds and she feels like passing out. His hand releases hers but travels up her arm to grab her shoulder and hold her close. The guilty and sad thoughts disappear and are replaced by only the feel of him, here, now. “Don’t leave me,” she whispers against his lips like a prayer. His fingers tighten on her flesh and press their bodies impossibly closer together as he kisses her slowly again and again.

Her fingers dig desperately into his clothing and she trails an eager tongue against his bottom lip. His small gasp is accompanied by an exploratory tongue and hands in her hair. Molly finds herself gasping for breath and she can feel him doing the same while still attacking her mouth. It is blissfully perfect.

Eventually he shifts to explore other parts of her body. He trails firm kisses along her jaw, up to her ear, and down her neck. He nips at her pulse point, soothing it afterward with a soft graze of his tongue.

“Molly,” he gasps, “I need you.”

“Sherlock?” she struggles for breath.

“You’re not supposed to leave a wedding early, but I have a room upstairs. We’re meant to stay for brunch,” he sucks marks into her clavicle and tightens his grip almost painfully. “Please, Molly. Please?”

“Oh, God. I want to say yes,” she almost cries. “But I love you too much. I don’t want to wake up alone.”

He stills and catches his breath with is face nuzzled against her. He places softer kisses against her skin and travels back to meet her face, “Then we’ll stay up all night.” She grins and he smiles back, kissing her cheeks a few times. He pulls back eventually, releasing his firm grip on her. “Come on, let’s go dance.”

She can’t hide the shock on her face. “I didn’t know you danced. You’ve never...I mean...” They hadn’t really danced yesterday, just swayed in the garden for a while. She’d never seen him participate in the merriment with the other guests.

“Really?” he’s obviously surprised, “...Time to change that.” He grabs her hand with a firm grip and makes several swift strides back to the hall. They’re greeted by a beaming Mrs. Hudson when they enter, and John and Mary find their group as well. The DJ plays The Cure’s _Just Like Heaven_ and they all smile while bobbing and moving to the music.

Sherlock is startlingly light on his feet. Molly’s struck by what a good day this was, she’s usually exhausted and bored by this time...except for yesterday. She pushes away any lingering sadness and just enjoys being with her friends.

John and Mary retire to their room eventually. Some guests start to leave a short while later. Mrs. Hudson excuses herself as well. Lestrade claims exhaustion and impending paperwork from the arrest that morning. Soon there are only a few couples left on the dance floor; Janine and Beige Suit, Blue Dress and Cowboy Boots, Green Dress and Grey Suit, Sherlock and Molly.

Eventually Sherlock leans down and whispers in her ear, “Do you want me to take you home?”

Molly lets herself smile, “No.”

He straightens and smiles back at her, “Come on then.” He guides her out of the hall, stopping quickly to order room service at the front desk, and then up to the second floor.

Inside his room, he lets go of her hand only to direct her to sit on the bed, which she does nervously, kicking off her shoes at the same time. He paces around a bit, deep in thought, and soon their tray arrives – tea and snacks. Molly makes them each a cup, ensuring to prepare his just as he likes. He watches her with approval while shrugging off his suit coat and removing his tie. “Cheers,” he says when she offers it to him.

She leans back on the pillows while sipping at her own cup. He similarly joins her on the bed after removing his shoes and loosening the buttons of his waistcoat. He looks absolutely stunning in this semi-dishevelled state. Molly takes a deep, quiet breath to keep calm and pushes away memories of him in her flat yesterday. He wraps an arm around her and places a soft kiss on her shoulder. She squeezes her eyes shut and leans into it.

“One minute to midnight,” he says suddenly.

Molly gives him a sympathetic look, “It doesn’t work like that. You and I stayed up until 2am yesterday.”

He raises his eyebrows, “We did?” She nods again and takes an awkward sip of her tea. “Well, we can do better than that tonight then.”

They relax into casual conversation, snuggling closer every so often. Sherlock remarks again at how brilliantly she took down the photographer. Molly tries not to beam with too much pride. They discuss some of his old cases and she mentions the day they spent solving crimes together last year. He kisses her neck tenderly after that. She gets him to tell her the story of the Elephant in the Room because it is completely ridiculous.  

Exhaustion starts to wash over her eventually. “Please don’t leave me,” she whispers into his chest.

“Never,” he says, kissing the top of her head and stroking her hair. She fights really hard against it, but Sherlock holds her closely and the beating of his heart only lulls her further toward sleep.


	12. Sunday 19th May

The radio alarm goes off at exactly 9am playing Modern English’s  _I Melt With You_.

_“Moving forward using all my breath. Making love to you was never second best. I saw the world crashing all around your face never really knowing it was always mesh and lace. I'll stop the world and melt with you. You've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time. And there's nothing you and I won't do I'll stop the world and melt with you...”_

Molly’s eyes pop open and she tries to sit up but something heavy is weighing her down. She looks and sees an arm that at first seems out of place. The previous night comes back in a flood and she gasps at the realisation of who’s sharing the bed. Not her bed. The arm, and body attached, pulls her in tighter. Light kisses land on the back of her neck and shoulders. She turns over and leans into him and almost cries from the joy of having him still there.

“You didn’t leave me,” she whispers against his lips.

“Never,” Sherlock whispers back, pulling her into a passionate kiss.


End file.
